Cruel
by Jetfire
Summary: "That's how it starts. The fever, the rage, the feeling of powerlessness that turns good men... cruel."
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: _This quote from Alfred in Batman v Superman trailer got me thinking. What is the cruelest thing Batman could do to a criminal? And what would make him do it? This story is the result of that speculation. It is not meant to be anything deep and the ending might be abrupt, but hopefully it is true to the characters and it is entertaining._

 _Enjoy!  
_

* * *

Eddie Thompson ran down the hallway as fast as he could, already gasping for air as the panic flooded his body.

As luck would have it, he tripped, causing him to crash into the ground at maximum velocity.

Eddie struggled to get to his hands and knees, only for a boot to viciously plant itself into his back, flattening him to the ground.

His attempts to craw were rendered helpless by a second boot crushing his fingers, violently grinding them against the rough surface of the rundown building.

His screams were cut short by a black hand, which reached out and sized his neck with the tightness of a vice.

With the force of an inverted gravitational pull, Thompson was hoisted upwards until he was eye to eye with the scowling face of the terror of the underworld:the Batman.

Batman slammed Thompson against the wall, still holding his body with one hand at his throat, batarangs tucked between the fingers of the other.

Thompson coughed violently as he attempted to speak.

"Okay….you win Bats. I get it. I learned my lesson. I shouldn't have sold those drugs. I shouldn't have stolen that car five years ago. I shouldn't have shot that spitball at my 9th grade math teacher. I was wrong to dis my mom. And I shouldn't have wet my bed when I was 17. But what you saw in that room is totally clean. It's my most legit source of income. Heck, if it paid just a little more I wouldn't be a drug dealer. I'd do that full time. I'm not saying it's right, but it's harmless. Especially to them. It's just a form of supply and demand. People do it all the time. It's no big deal, right?"

Batman clenched his teeth and raised his bataranged fist.

"HEY, NO WAIT-"

 _pop_

That was the last thing Eddie heard before he screamed as loud and as long as he could, before the need of oxygen coerced a deep breath out of him, allowing him to scream again.

And so the cycle continued until his cries degenerated into a pitiful wailing before he passed out.

***8:30 AM Bludhaven***

A well-built man stirred to life at the sound of a ringing phone.

"Grayson here!"

"Channel 39."

"What?"

"Channel 39 Now!"

"Worst. Wake up Call. Ever. Babs."

"Just do it!"

"Alright." Grayson said grabbing the remote and tuning in to the desired channel, where Vicky Vale was reporting live at what looked like a rundown building.

"Recapping our top story of the day, at 5:12 AM police were alerted to screams coming from the abandoned Sprang complex near Miller Harbor. Police arrived on the scene where they found 2-time drug dealer Eddie Thompson in a homemade meth lab in critical condition."

"Viewer discretion is advised, the following images may be disturbing to younger audiences"

The camera cut to the paramedics loading Thompson up into a stretcher. As the camera zooms in we see the that Thompson has batarangs protruding out of his eyes.

Vale's voiceover continued.

"Based off what Thompson told police, the low tier drug dealer was apparently the victim of the Batman who attacked him last night. Doctors say they are unsure if they can safely remove the offending items, but they are certain that even if they get them out, Thompson will be blinded for life."

"They've been playing this for hours. What do you think Dick?"

"I think that guy's blind as a bat."

"Seriously Dick! I'm worried. This is excessive. Even for him!"

"Maybe this guy did something that punched Bruce's berserker buttons. Any record of heinous crimes?"

"Nothing! I checked him against every criminal database on the planet. Thompson is arguably one of the least threatening criminals in the city. No murder charges. No attacks on children, no history of rape or stalking, just a mild history of theft and drug dealing. He's done nothing that would set him off like this."

Grayson winced. "Why come to me though? Can't you ask him yourself?"

"I tried. Alfred said he was unavailable. I tried to reach him online and he locked me out of the system."

"That never stopped you before." Dick replied while grabbing a shirt.

"I tried hacking his computer. Got infested with viruses for my trouble. Took me an hour to clean my system. I think he did that out of spite. Whatever's bothering him he's not talking."

"So you want me to find out what bat is up his belfry?"

"You have to Dick. He has never done anything like this. Not even to the Joker."

Grayson's eyes widened at this realization.

"On my way Babs."


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred somberly swept up the remains of what appeared to be wooden splinters and glass pieces, before emptying them into the trash.

His duty was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"Master Dick, how good to see you sir," Alfred said as he bid Grayson welcome into the manor.

"Hey, Al. Longtime no see," Grayson said as he hugged the old man.

"Indeed. Can I persuade you to have some tea sir?"

"Got any sweetener?"

"Indubitably."

"I'm in!"

Dick ran to the kitchen and attempted to get the materials himself, only to be promptly escorted into the dining hall by Alfred, who returned to the kitchen to prepare the refreshments.

All these years and the old man hadn't changed.

Alfred always insisted that the kitchen was his domain and the preparation of meals and beverages was his unique privilege. There had been many a fight between the butler and the circus boy over whether or not he would be allowed to help the British gentlemen with the preparation and the cleaning of the dining utensils.

Good times.

While waiting for Alfred, Dick wandered around the Manor, eventually finding himself in the living room. His eyes wandered until he found a sizable square-shaped imprint where clearly a portrait once hung.

"Hey, isn't that where the picture of his par-"

"There you are Master Dick." Alfred said entering the room holding the tray of teacups filled to the brim.

"Thanks Alfred." Dick said as he and Alfred sat down, each taking a sip of their tea.

"Hey Al, what happened to the portrait of the Waynes?" Grayson asked pointing toward the vacant spot on the wall.

Alfred looked in the direction.

"Oh…a mere exercise in thorough cleaning Master Dick. Removing the picture was necessary to cleanse the vacant space of dust."

"Uh-huh" Dick nodded.

"So where's Bruce?" Dick asked standing up and putting his tea down.

"At Work." Replied the faithful butler.

"At the office?"

"At Work."

"Downstairs then. So, what are we dealing with?"

"I beg your pardon sir?"

"Why did he do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why did he blind the guy?"

"Blind the guy sir? I don't follow."

"Oh come on Al, it's me. Remember? 'Master Dick?' The _second_ orphaned crime fighter you raised in this fortress of a house?  
You don't have to play the Sergeant Shultz-I-know-nothing-gag with me. You had to have heard the news. Now, why did he do it?"

Alfred sighed heavily. "I can't tell you Master Dick-"

"Al-"

"-because I don't know my self. He has not seen fit to tell me."

Dick sighed.

"Alright, at least tell me this: what really happen to the portrait of the Waynes?"

Alfred stood up with a sigh. "That I can tell you. I was awoken in the early hours by the sound of deafening roar, followed by the thick cracking sounds.  
Naturally, I resolved to trace the origins of these dreadful noises posthaste."

"I have raised Master Bruce his whole life and have spent a sizeable portion of my own doing so. I have seen it all. I have seen him brood. I have seen him bleed. I have seen him broken. But what I observed him doing in this room did more to provoke me to alarm than anything I have ever seen."

Dick's eyebrow arched.

"I arrived just in time to see Master Bruce in uniform, sans the cowl, slamming the portrait against the ground and what ever happened to be near by. I made a motion to stop him at once, only to be violently shoved backward for my troubles."

Grayson's eyes widened.

"He dashed the frame to the ground and opened the clock entrance and strongly urged that I not follow him into the cave under penalty of severe reprisal. Unable to confront him, I resolved to tune in to the local news, hopping to discover anything that might have pushed him to this far. Within roughly 30 minutes I heard about his excessive attack on the young delinquent. Before I could process my reaction, Ms. Gordon telephoned, insisting that she speak with him. Knowing that reaching him would be impossible I communicated that he was beyond reach at the moment."

"I sat in front of the television trying to collect my thoughts, trying to wonder what would provoke him to such rage. And thus I remained for about an hour. When it became apparent that I would not get any answers from him or the media circus I proceeded to clean the fruit's of Master Bruce's outburst. I was just finishing the task when you arrived."

Dick's face was a solemn mask. He took a deep breath, interlocked his hands behind his head, wrapped his arms around the sides of his skull, and began to pace.

He had hoped that Alfred would give him something that could help him find a simplified path to Bruce's state of mind. To better prepare him for the confrontation. Instead, this information made it harder. Getting Batman to talk to you at all is hard enough. Getting him to explain his behavior when he's angry is nigh impossible.

But this…

This wasn't just anger. This was something else. Something worse. This was some dark uncharted territory and was going to be much harder than he thought. Whatever it was, it not only made him blind a man in his mid to late 20s, but it also made him desecrate the portrait of his parents. What could make him do that?

Dick stopped pacing, and resumed his at ease position.

"Well I guess I'll have to go ask him personally," the first boy wonder said as he made his way to the clock entrance.

"Master Dick, I would heavily advise against that."

"Oh, come on Alfred. Something is seriously wrong here and we have to find out what it is."

"I understand that sir, but I would recommend you not enter the cave."

"Why not?

"When Master Bruce entered the cave he announced that he was activating the Omega Security Protocol. That is why I could not confront him."

"The OMEGA Protocol? You mean the one that programs the surveillance equipment to activate non-lethal, but very painful counter measures designed to take out meta-humans if it detects bio-signatures that don't match his DNA?"

"The very one."

"Huh." Dick responded.

He shrugged.

"Oh well, I guess I'll have to disable the security and sneak in to the cave," Dick said as he headed outside to his car.

Dick opened his trunk and pulled out a bag and made his way back into the Manor.

"Pardon me, Master Dick, but how, pray tell, do you intend to deactivate the security?"

"Oh that's easy." Dick responded grabbing his Nightwing gear.

"I once roomed with a guy who was an actual Cyborg. I had to have learned SOMETHING about advanced technology. The hard part will be getting him to talk once I get to him."

"Indeed sir."

"Wish me luck Al."

"Godspeed lad," said the gentlemen butler.

"Thanks," replied the former Robin as he finished dawning his Nightwing suit.


End file.
